t -*v\ 



6 >• 



USH MONEY, 



S 635 


A BURLETTA, 


Z9 


179 


IN TWO ACTS. 


opy 1 









BY GEORGE DANCE, 

Author of *• Petticoat Government,"— u Six to Four on the Colonel."— " Tft« 
Station House," &c &c. 



TO WHICH IS ADDED, 



A Description of the Costume,— Cast of the Characters,— the 
whole of the Stage Business, 

SITUATIONS,— ENTRANCES,— EXITS,— PROPERTIES AND 
DIRECTIONS. 



AS PERFORMED AT 

THE LONDON THEATRES. 



B AL'TIMORE * 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY JOS. ROBINSON, 
Circulating Library, 2, N. Cal vert-street. 

1S35. 



J/i 



'Of 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. *$ ^ 

— <?> v 

Mr. Jasper Touchwood, (a sensitive 

Gentleman,) Mr. Listo.v. 

Snuggle, (a retired Tradesman.) .Mr. F. Matthews 

Charles White, (his Nephew,) Mr J. Wi bsteh. 

Stock, (a Chelsea Pensioner.) Mr. Masojv. 

Snorein, (a Watchman.) Mr. Dowsing. 

Tom Tiller, (a Waterman,) .VI r. Keeley. 

Lvdia, (Daughter to Snuggle,) Miss Fitzwalter. 

Mrs. Crab, Mrs. Tax leurk. 

Sally, (a Laundress, Daughter to 

Stock,) Mrs. Orgeb. 

The Scene is laid at Lambeth. 



First produced at the Olympic Theatre, Nov. 28, 1834. 
Time of Representation — 1 hour, '20 minutes. 



COSTUME. 

Touchwood — First dress, large blue camlet cloak, and outre 
travelling cap. Second dress, Full mourning, drab hat, large 
crape hatband. 

Snuggle— Old gentleman's plain brown suit, white stockings, 
shoes. 

Charles — Young Gentleman's fashionable coat, waistcoat and 
trowsers. 

Stock— Chelsea Pensioner's dress and hat, black stock, knee and 
'.sftoo bnctyes. ; ' , ' « 

iS7ior^/n-/-*Wat«f>mah's grey coat, Welch; ntgkt cip, large brim- 
med hat*. '*.*•'? 

Tom Tiller— Thames waterman's suit, with glazed hat. Second 
*dfceSs\; Plant rjld. fosl.iov.ed' grey livery coat red waistcoat, 
,'arejbn br'efcch^s. . .' ; 

Lydia— Young LaUy'Vwaite uress 

Sally- First dress, Plain coloured gown and an apron. Second 
dress, Pretty light coloured gown. 

Mvs. Crab — Red gown and shawl, cap and bonnet. 



r «P 92-00 90 33 



HUSH MONEY. 



ACT I. 

SCENE l.~The interior of Sally's dwelling.— Sal- 
ly is discovered employed in irojwig different arti- 
cles of ladies' dress. Stock is seated at the Jire on 
the ofifiosite side, ivith a tankard before him and a 
jiifie in his mouth. 

Stock, (r. h.J Well, Sally ! after all's said and done, 
you are to do as you think, fit. 

Sally, (l.) In course I am, I know that as well as 
you can tell me. 

Stock. Still you ought not to be too quick in what 
you do. 

Sally. No more I am, for as sure as I takes any- 
thing in harfd, I turn it over and over, and over, and 
look at it first this way, and then that way, and as I 
may say every way, before ever I can make up my 
mind what's best to be done with it, (turning and 
folding her work as she speaks) but still, u strike 
while the iron's hot," is a good motto. 

Stock. Ay, child, but " slow and sure's" a better. 

Sally. So you think, father. 

Stock. You only listen to me and you'll never burn 
your fingers. 

Sally. (Pettishly, and with violence taking hold of 
the iron, from which the handle has slipped, she burns 
herself) Psha, nonsense, ahi! ahi ! I've burnt'em now, 
however, that comes of your " slow and sure." (run- 
ning towards the side.) 

Stock. No. no, girl! that comes o'your striking 
while the "iron's hot." 

[Mrs. Crab opens the window gently, and puts in 
her head.] 



6 HUSH MONEY. 

Sally. And a nice sour apple she is as any one 
need wish t& have a bite at; why the very sound of 
her voice is always enough to set my teeth on edge. 

Stock. Ah, very likely; but she'll get Tom away 
from you in spite of your teeth. 

Sally. Will she? ah, well, you never mind about 
that, father, you leave me to take care of myself in 
that quarter. And now I don't want to turn you out, 
but hadn't you better, better be thinking of getting 
home again ? you know the last time you were here 
the gates were shut, and you got into trouble. 

Stock. Well light me another pip", and I'll be- 
gone ; but I wonder Tom a'nt here, for he promised 
to come before this, and put me across the river in 
his boat. 

Sally. Indeed ! (aside) but that won't do, I can't 
have him bothering here to night, (aloud ) Oh fa- 
ther, I vvould'nt stay for Tom if I was you ; you know 
he's a terrible bad'un to keep an appointment. 

Stock. Not always child, (knocking at the door ) 
for here he is, I'm so glad! for I do of all things like 
to see a good natured face. (Sally opens the door.) 

*. Enter Mrs. Crab. 

Sally, (seeing her) Do you? then I hope as you 
are accommodated. 

Mrs. C. If you mean me, ma'am, you needn't hope 
no such a thing. I don't happen to stand in need of 
accommodation, and if I did, you are abt ut the last 
as I should demean myself by coming to for it. 

Sally. Well father, I do agree with you that it 
does one all the good in the world only to have a 
look at that sweet face, (aside) Just like a monkey 
took suddenly ill. 

Mrs. C. Sweet or not ma'am, my face is not going 
to make sauce for any body else's pudding head, so 
take that. 

Stock. Come, Mrs. Crab, T don't mean to be rude, 
but perhaps you are going my road, if so I shall be 



HUSH MONEY. 7 

glad of the pleasure of your company; we live pretty 
nearly opposite one another, you know. 

Mrs. C. No, Mr. Stock, I don't know no such thing. 
Because, as it happens, I have quitted the public 
line, and accepted a cook's place in a private capa- 
city, in the house of one Mr. Snuggle, as lives not a 
great way from here — a vastly genteel family ! 

Sally. Particularly genteel ! and it'll doubtless be- 
come much more so, now that it has the advantage 
of Mrs. Crab to give it a lift. 

Mrs. C. You know the family ma'am. 

Sally. Yes, I know the family ma'am ; I have 
been a long time employed there, in the private ca- 
pacity of laundress and clear starchcr — may I ven- 
ture to hope for Mrs. Crabs' patronage and support? 

Airs C That, tna'arn, will depend entirely on how 
you deports yourself. In the mean time I beg to 
say that I did not come here to bandy words with 
such as you, but to look for Mr. Tiller. 

Sally. Mr. Tiller? 

Mrs. C. Yes ma'am, the same. Having occasion 
to speak to him on business, and not finding him at 
home, I took the liberty of dropping in here, seeing 
that I very well know as he spends a good deal, ay 
and I may say too much of his time here, more in- 
deed than I, and his real friends, incline to think will 
ever turn out either to his credit or advantage. 

Sally. So, ma'am, that's your opinion is it ? 

Mrs. C. Yes, ma'am, it is, and moreover it's one 
as I shall give Mr. Tiller himself the very first time 
I come across him, and before many hours are over 
your head I'll let you know something. 

Sally; La, well, I shall be clever 1 reckon when- 
ever Mrs. Crab lets me know anything — ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. C. They laughs best as laughs longest, luit 
take you care, Mrs. Sauce box, that your's don't end 
on the wrong side of your face. It might hurt your 
beauty. 



/ 



' k 



8 HUSH MONEY. 

Sally. How pleasant for you to be quite free from 
any fear on that score. 

Mrs. C. It's like your imperence to say such a 
thing ! but I've dose with you ; but before I go allow 
me to leave a message lor Mr. Tiller ; don't be 
alarmed, nor fly into a jealous fit. It's only to re- 
quest that if he can by any means tear himself away 
from your society, he'll be good enough to wait on 
Mr. Charles White, at Mr. Snuggle's villa, to mor- 
row morning, when he will find him and other friends 
ready to receive him, and to console him as much 
as possible for your absence, and for your precious 
self I should just wish before I take my departure, 
to add my strongest possible assurance that you have 
my despise! (Exit, through door.) 

Sally. Ditto, ditto, to the end of the chapter! 
{calling after her,) Oh wouldn't she be a pleasant 
lodger in a small house ? 

Stock. Sally, Sally! you are incorrigible; but good 
night girl! and I'll go and look after Tom myself. 
Good bye. (Exit, through door.) 

Sally. Good bye, father — well I'm giad they're 
gone, for it's getting on for the time of my appoint- 
meat with Mr. Touchwood. But let's have one more 
look at his letter, that there may be no mistake, 
(takes letter from her pocket and reads) "returned 
to town" — " something very particular to say to you" 
— yes, I shouldn't wonder if I knew what — •' Bishop's 
walk, from twelve to half-past." Droll of him to 
choose such a time and such a place, but there, he 
is so shy and frightened like, he never does anything 
like any body else. Any way it isn't for me to baulk 
him, least ways not 'till such time as I've tied him 
up with a hymeneal halter, then if Mrs. Crab, and 
Mr. Tiller behaves themselves, I won't say I won't 
make one my cook and the other my footman. 

(Exit through door.) 



HUSH MONEY. 

SCENE II.— Outside of Tom Tiller's house. 

Enter Tom Tiller, with a pair of Skulls on his 
shoulder , and singing. 

In Chester town a man there dwelt, 

Not rich as Croesus, but a buck — 
The pangs of love he clearly felt, 

His name was Thomas Clutterbuck. 
The lady he did most approve, 

Of guineas gold had got 'em, 
So Thomas he fell deep in love, 

With Polly Higginboltom. 

Oh, Thomas Clutterbuck, &c. 

It's one of the strangest things in life to me as folks 
should find it in their hearts to laugh, when they 
hears that song. To my mind it's one of the most 
aflfectingest ditties as ever I heard — many and many's 
the time I've catched myself a whimpering and a 
snivelling over it, like a infant in arms, and when 
once that 'ere tune gets what I call a grip o'me, I 
could go on a singing and a singing it, 'till I get as 
mopy and melancholy as if the Thames was froze 
over! and for the matter of that, it might as well be, 
if I am to do no better than I'm doing now. Ever 
since this blessed morning I wish I may drown if 
I've earned bread and cheese. Oh you know it can't 
last — the folks all seem like so many cats, afraid of 
coming near the water; howsomedever watermen 
are like other people, they must eat, and they will 
drink — they cannot live upon hair. 

Enter Stock, l. h. 

Stock. To be sure they can't, Mr. Tom; you never 
spoke a truer word than that. 

Tom. Hollo, old chap ! it's rather late for you to 
be out of bounds. 

Stock. Yes, I am none too early I know ; but I 
thought on my way home I'd just look in upon you a 
moment to give you a message. 



r. 



10 HUSH MONEY. 

Tom. A message for me ? what from my dear 
Sally? 

Stock. Why no, not exactly, Mrs. Crab gave it to 
me 

Tom. Did she? then I tell you what, yon just give 
it back again to her, and tell her it don't fit. 

Stsck. But don't you wish 

Tom. No, I don't, I tell you — I don't wish pothing 
where she is concerned. 

Stock. And I tell you, you are too hasty — slow and 
sure, my boy, is best. 

Tom. No, no, there an't no best nor worst neither, 
when Mother Crab has a hand in it, because it's all 
bad alike ; and I've told her half a hundred times 
she is not the right fare for my boat. Besides, you 
know, an't I as good as spliced already to your Sally. 

Stock I wish you was. 

Tom. Well, for that matter, so do I, but hullo ! 
you look as glum all of a sudden as if you'd found a 
shilling and lost eighteen pence.— I say, old fellow ! 
there an't a screw loose no where, is there ? 

Stock. No, no, I don't say that, but only let me tell 
you that Mrs. Crab 

Tom. Now I tell you it's no use your going on 
about Mother Crab, because I won't have her as a 
gift. 

Stock. Very good, but you must have her message, 
for that comes from Mr. Charles White, who I un- 
derstand is your friend. 

Tom. Oh! if 'tis from Master Charley, as I call 
him, that's another guess kind of a thing — That's 
the best friend I ever had to my back — many's the 
good job he's helped me to ashore, when there's 
been nothing a doing on the river, and whenever I 
hear his name there's a sort of a kind of a dusty 
feeling like, comes all about my precious throat, and 
I don't feel I've ever properly got shoot of it, 'till I 
have had a glass of something or other and water to 
drink his health in ; so now I say, old chap let's you 



HUSH MONEY. 11 

and I just step together across the way, to the Jolly 
Waterman, and over one glass — no more you know 
— not a drop more, you shall tell me what all this is 
about. 

Stocky That's all very well for you, but I've got a 
long maVch yet before me, and ?o I can't do it. 

Tom. Can't you! try, and 1 think you'll find you 
can; and as to your long march, why I'll shorten 
that a good mile or two, by putting you over in my 
boat ; so no more about that, nor about Mother Crab, 
for her very name is enough to turn all the milk in 
the house sour ; and as I've said to her mere than 
once, when she's a doing her pickles, hang me if she 
wouldn't save her master a fortune in vinegar, if she 
was only to look once a day into the jar. [Exit. 

SCENE III.— Entrance to the Terrace in front of 
Lambeth Palace. — On one side, part of the building 
itself, on the other River , in the distance, lights on 
Westminster Bridge, the Speaker's House, life, iP'c. 
— Moonlight. 

Enter Touchwood, r. h. wrapped in his cloak, he 
paces up and down without speaking, 'till the clock 
strikes the three quarters. 

Touch. So, another quarter gone, and no Sally. 
Upon my life this is a vastly agreeable way of pass- 
ing one's time between twelve and one in the morn- 
ing ; not that it's the least use my complaining, be- 
cause if she chooses to keep me here 'till sunrise, 
stay I must — confound the wind! how it blows again. 
I tell you what, Mrs. Sally, when you do come, you 
shall find me as cold r.o you as the night is to me. 
Oh yes, I shall cut the matter very short; it was all 
very well, when I a had paltry two hundred pounds 
a year, to talk of marrying one in that line of life, 
but now that by a lucky windfall I have tumbled 
into four times that, the thing would be ridiculous. 



k 



12 HUSH MONEY. 

No, no, my dear Lydia is now my object, and so the 
moment Mrs. Sally makes her appearance. T shall 
acquaint her with a few facts that will astonish her 
weak mind — poor creature, it's hard, I own it, but 
what can I do? I am sure if any body will tell me, I 
am quite ready to listen to reason. 

Enter Sally (r. h.) also rriuffled ufi. 

Sally. Well, dang it ! I'm glad to hear that, main 
glad, my dear Mr. Touchwood, because in that case 
its for certain you'll not refuse to listen to me, 
while I tell you how it comes to pass that I be so 
shocking late; but lawks! I am so delighted to see 
your nice old phiz again, (putting her hands to his 
face.) 

Touch. Less freedom, Mrs. Sally, if you please' 
too much familiarity breeds contempt. 

Sally. Why, how changed your manner is! 

Touch. Really? 

Sally. Yes, really. (Touchwood expressing annoy- 
ance,) But I know well enough what that cross look 
of your'n means, and I beg your pardon, for not per- 
nouncing my words, as you tells me to do, but I don't 
know how it is, somehow or other, it do seem as if 
the more I try, the more I don't succeed ; and yet it 
is not for want of good will, neither, because, as I 
says to myself, Sally, says I, " when Mr. Touchwood 
demeans himself for to make you his lawful wife " 

Touch, (coughing) Ahem! how very cold it is! 

Sally. Why yes, for certain, it's none of the warm- 
est, but as I was saying when once we are married — 

Touch, (coughing more violently) Ahem! ahem! 
really this north-east wind cuts like a knife. 

Sally. Ay, that it do, it cuts and comes again. 

Touch, (aside) Elegant observation ! {aloud) But, 
Mrs. Sally, it's getting very late, so let me without 
any further delay come to the subject matter on 
which I summoned you here to speak. 

Sally. Well, what is it — out with it at once ! 



HUSH MONEY. 13 

Touch. Be patient, and I will — out with it at once ! 
you are aware that I have been absent from London 
for upwards of a month. 

Sally. Ay, down at Margate, to have a dip in the 
sea, and by the same token you told me that by the 
next time you went there we should be Mr. and Mrs. 
Touchwood, and then ve'd go and have our dip to- 
gether. 

Touch. Together ? really Mrs. Sally 

Sally. Well, there you go again, with your cross 
looks, and all because I said I should like to rollick 
and flounder about in the sea — and so I should, and 
I meant no harm. 

Touch. I dare say not, but at the same time a lit- 
tle more care in your expressions, and you would 
not so often flounder in them. 

Sally. Ha! ha! come that's good again — Lord, 
how I do like to look at that droll face of your's, 
when you say them things. 

Touch. Indeed! upon my word I'm much obliged 
to you; but I don't happen to consider my face as at 
all droll. 

Sally. Ah! but I do; droll enough to belong to 

the Funny Club ; but you know you said 

Touch, (quickly) Whatever 1 may have said, or 
whatever prospects I may have held out to you, be- 
fore my last quitting you, circumstances of consider- 
able importance which have since occurred make it 
necessa-ry that I should now tell you, you must con- 
sider those prospects at an end. — (aside) Ahem ! that 
I think will give her some notion of what she has to 
expect. 
Sally. ( after a fiause ) What do you say? 
Touch. I say what I mean. 
Sally. And what do you mean ? 
Touch. Just what I say. 

Sally. And more shame for you, when you say such 
an unfeeling speech ! but you have given me your 
promise, and I'll keep you to it, or you shall pay for it. 
2 



id 



U HUSH MONEY. 

Touch. Why as to paying, I have no precise 
memorandum of having on any occasion been guilty 
of giving any promise before a witness, and there- 
fore 

Sally. And therefore you hold yourself free to act 
like a deceitful — do so, sir, but if you think that by 
so doing you can break my heart, you never were 
more mistook in your life, for as to being your wife 
I don't value it at that, ( 'snapping her Jingers) and 
as to crying and making myself miserable about you, 
I am much more likely to laugh in your face, ha ! 
ha ! ha ! that's what I am and I'll do it again, ha.! ha ! 
for I think it nothing but a joke, a ca-pi-tal — o — oh! 
oh ! oh ! (crying) 

Touch, (aside) If she cries I'm done for, (approach- 
ing her) nay Mrs. Sally ! 

Sally. Stand off, I say, how dare you go for to 
touch me, after such ow-dacious goings on ? 

Touch. Sally, Mrs Sally, I say, this is really evinc- 
ing a violence of manner that quite astonishes me. 

Sally. I dare say it does, particularly in one as 
you thought it impossible to pervoke, but the worm 
will turn when its trod upon. 

Touch. Trod on! Mrs. Sally, I protest I have no 
wish to tread on you. 

Sally. Yes, you have, but like the worm I'll turn 
on you. There, I am not going to cry any more 
about such a — but you just mark my words, there's 
seme fine madam at the bottom of all this I know 
there is, but leave me alone to find her out, and when 
you are married, dead or alive, I'll be as good as a 
ghost to her and you too. (The clock strikes one.) 

Touch. Ha! 

Tally. Yes, you may well say ha! 

Touch. Mrs. Sally be so good as not to mention 
anything about death or ghosts, you know how ner- 
vous those subjects make me. 

Sally. Oh nonsense about nervous, do you see that 
river ? 



HUSH MONEY. 15 

Touch. What do you mean ? 

Sally, (aside) I'll* try what frightening him a bit 
will do (aloud) I'm as likely as not to jump into that 
river, and be found a drowned corpse in the morning. 

Touch. Mrs, Sally, for shame! does your con- 
science say nothing against this ? do you hear no 
voice that terrifies you ? 

(Tom Tiller is heard singing.) 

«• Oh Polly Higginbottom ! 
Down she went unto the bottom." 

Sally. I do indeed, and it's a voice that terrifies 
me out of my life. 

Touch. Your life > 

Sally. Ay, my life, (aside) It's Tom, and I wouldn't 
have him see me here for the world, so I must be 
quick, if he finds us together, he'll be jealous, and I 
shall lose both, and so listen you deceitful — listen to 
my last words! 

Touch, (aside) Her last words ? what can she 
mean? Sally, Mrs. Sally ! I say, I'm in such a state 
my head is turning — my eyes are swimming. 

Sally. Oh don't talk of swimming, for if once I 
makes a plunge it isn't that as'll save me. 

(Tom Tiller's voice is heard nearer.) 

" I sing the ghost, the watery ghost, 
Of pretty I'olly Higginbottom!" 

Touch, (leaning against the railing) Oh ! 

Sally, (aside) He's here, and go I must, (moving 
towards the opposite side to that on which Tom Til- 
ler's voice is heard. — the Watchman cries past one 
o'clock.) The watchman ! I daren't let him see me — 
gad then there's no other way to escape, no matter 
if I do frighten him, serve him right, the water's 
only up to my knees, and I can creep along under 
the bank, (going up to Touchwood) Now, wretch ! 
this is what you have driven me to, and now I'm 
gone for ever! (runs to the railing y stoops under it % 



A 



16 HUSH MONEY. 

and jumps down, Touchwood runs to stofi her, but 
is too late ; he falls ufion the railing.) 

Touch, Forbear, ah, gone for ever ! {at that moment 
enter Tom Tiller, who hears the last words.) 

Tom. A man going to drown himself! (running 
and catching hold of him by the coat) Not while I have 
strength to hold you. 

Touch. Let me go, let me go! 

Tom. Not I, indeed ; an't you ashamed of yourself 
to think to commit such a crime ? 

Touch. Crime ? 

Tom. Ay, crime ! don't you call drowning a crime? 

Touch. Of course, but as I live I didn't 

Tom. Psha, didn't I see you — 

Touch, (aside) As sure as fate he thinks 'twas I 
who plung'd her in. (aloud) What can I say ? what 
can I do ! 

Tom. Nothing, you know you are guilty, and 
ought to be glad that I was here to arrest you. 

Touch, (with great force ) Arrest me ? I am a 
ruined man. 

Tom. But ruination ten times over an't no excuse 
for such a deed as that ; for my part I'm as poor as 
Job. 

Touch, (aside) Ha ? he may be bribed — poor, 
are you ? 

Tom. Ah, that I am, sometimes what I call dread- 
fully pressed. 

Touch, (aside) I wish to my soul you were now, 
and sent on board the Tender. 

Tom. Bat no matter for being poor, I'm not one of 
those as thinks the human life of man, is to be sacri- 
ficed that there way. 

Touch. Hush ! here, take this, (gives him money.) 

Tom. Gold? well if you'll promise me not to be 
trying again 

Touch. I'll promise anything. 

Tom. There then, (loosening him) but mind, I've 
a sharp eye on you, (Watchman's voice is heard.) 



HUSH MONEY. 17 

"Past one o'clock.") Oh, there's the watchman- 
come I'm glad of that. 

Touch, {alarmed) Glad, why? 
To?n. Because he'll help me to look after you, till 
we get a coach 

Touch. Do you wish me to be driven to distraction? 
Tom. No, bless you, I only wish you to be driven 
to where you'll be taken proper care of. 

Touch. Hear me, let the watchman pass quietly, 
and name your own reward. 

Tom. Oho, what he's caught you at these rigs 
afore, has he ? 

Enter Snorem. 
Snore. Past one o'clock! (seeing them) Now, I say, 
good people, don't you know as it's rather late to be 
on the prowl here ? Is there any thing amiss! 
Touch, (aside to Tiller,) Speak to him. 
Tom I will. How are you, watchee ? 
Snore. What's that you, Master Thomas ? Oh, 
then it's all right 

Tom. To be sure, so good night, Master Snorem. 
Snore. Good night, past one o'clock? 
Tom. (to Touchwood) There, you see it's all right, 
come along, 1*11 see you safe. 

Touch, (aside) Safe ! what a frightful sound that 
word has in his mouth ! 

Snore. Past one o'clock ! [Exeunt severally. 

END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



ACT II. 

SCENE \.—An Jjiartment in Snuggle's House. 

D. in F. 

Enter Snuggle, r. h. followed by Lydia. 

Snug. Now don't, my little darling, do not be for 

ever coming across me and my wishes, as was the 

custom with your late mother, of blessed memory. 

a* 



/ 



18 HUSH MONEY. 

Lyd. You know you always say that I am to take 
my mother's place. 

Snug. Yes, child, but it was not your .mother's 
place to contradict me, although she so often did it. 

Lyd. And yet you continually tell me to make her 
conduct my rule. 

Snug. Perhaps I do, but there is no rule without 
an exception ; you know the one maxim of my life is, 
let us be cozy and comfortable, and you, I am sure, 
might be truly so. if you would only get into the way 
of yielding to my wishes. 

Lyd. And of never consulting my own. 

Snug. I don't say that, I don't say that, at all, on 
the contrary, consult your own, as you like, but follow 
mine. It's very hard, upon my life it is, that I am 
to be thwarted in an affair of such importance. 

Lyd. But I should think I ought 

Snug. Psha, in business ought stands for nothing. 
Now, you listen to me; Mr. Touchwood has my 
promise, and I must keep it. 

Lyd. That is what I wish you to do sir, but your 
promise was given to your nephew, Charles, 

Snug. Aye, but that was before I knew Mr. Touch- 
wood whose fortune makes him so desirable a match 
for you. 

Lyd. And Charles, sir 

Snug. Oh, you do as I desire — and I'll take care of 
Charles ; you know he is a handsome young fellow, 
that is agreeable enough ; now if I could get him, as I 
don't know but I can, in our County Yeomanry, the 
dog can ride, can't he ? 

Lyd. (eagerly) Oh, beautifully, sir ! 

Snug. Well, you know, some rich citizen's daugh- 
ter may fall in love with him. 

Lyd. Sir ! 

Suug. And then, if she should have a fond foolish 
old father, as you have, why they can be married, 
and live as cozy and comfortable as — as you and 
Mr. Touchwood. 



HUSH MONKY. 19 

Lyd. (sighing) I should think so, sir. 

Snug. But come, I've a hundred things to do. 
Mr, Teuchwood is to be here this morning, to pay 
you his first formal visit, as your suitor; and we 
must make some little extra exertion to entertain 
him. I suppose you have hired a man, as I desired, 
to come and help do what's wanting — what do you 
call him ? 

Lyd. Oh, that young man ! His name, sir, — Til- 
ler — Thomas Tiller — and I know he is a propper 
person, because he was recommended by my cousin 
Charles. 

Snug. Thomas Tiller, I don't remember ever 
hearing that name before. Tiller ? Tiller ? pray 
what is he ? 

Lyd. (abstractedly) In the County Yeomanry. 

Snug. Bless the girl, she is fast asleep ; however I 
won't stay longer to disturb her dreams. I am too 
happy myself to do that to any one. Dear me, I 
don't know when I have felt so cozy and comfort- 
able. [Exit L. H. 

Lyd. And so end all my hopes of being a happy 
wife, for as sure as I marry Mr. Touch wood, I feel 
beforehand I shall pass all my days in sighing, and 
all my nights in crying. (knocki?ig at the door) who's 
there ? 

Sally, (without) if you please, are you here miss ? 

Lyd. Who is it that asks ? 

Sally, (opening the door) It's only I, miss Sally 
Stock ! 

Lyd. You Sally ; what brought you here ? 

Sally. (e7itering) The* things from the wash, or 
rather, I should say, I brought them, but it's all one 
you know, miss, and now that I am here, I have such 
a favour to ask of you, if you please. 

Lyd. Well, what is it, Sally ? 

Sally. Why, it's this. You see, miss I know what 
fine doings be going on here, and to day there may 
be a little helping hand wanted, and as I'm rather 



20 HUSH MONEY. 

lonesome and melancholy like, on account of some- 
what as happened last night, why I hope you'll give 
me leave for to stay, and I warrant I'll make myself 
useful, in a good many ways. Law bless ye, I am 
one of those as can turn their hands to anything, at 
a pinch, and you shall see if 1 don't work like a good 
an. (aside) I hope she won't say no, for now that I've 
lost my rich lover, I must look twice as sharp after 
my poor one. 

Lyd. Oh, Sally ! you may stay, and welcome. 
Sully. Thank ye, miss, a thousand times ; and I'll 
only just run home, and shut up my bit of a cabin, 
and put the key in my pocket, because, you know, 
miss, the less one has, the less one can afford to lose ; 
but, lawk miss, what is it do make you look so 
cloudy? but, never mind, you only stop till your 
cousin comes, he'll soon set you to rights, 1 warrant 
him. 

Lyd. My cousin ! 

Sally. Aye, your cousin that is, and your husband 
that is to be. 

Lyd. Sally you are much mistaken, (sighing J I am 
not to mnrry my cousin. 

Sally. Not to marry your cousin ? here's a pretty 
commence, and for why, I should like to know. 
Lyd. Because my father has changed his mind. 
Sally. Changed his mind, indeed ; but he han't a 
right to do no such thing. Why, lord, what an 
old — but I beg pardon, miss, to be sure it's a great 
freedom to talk so. But law bless me, only to think ! 
well, I say nothing, but this I will say, 'its the burn- 
ingest shame. 

Lyd. Hush, Sally ! I am doomed to be the wife of 
Mr. Touchwood. 

Sally. Mr. who, miss ? 
Lyd. Mr. Touchwood, do you know him ? 
Sally. Know him, miss! why, yes, miss, that is, 
no, miss, as I may say; I do know him, and don't 
know him, (aside) Oh dear! its come on me so sud- 



HUSH MONEY. 21 

den, that I declare it's made me feel all over in a 

twitter. 

Lyd. Well, Sally, can you make up your mind 
whether you know Mr. Touchwood or not ? 

Sally, (aside) I see how it is, I must swear I don't. 
Oh, yes, miss ! the fact is, Ponce knew a Mr. Touch- 
wood, but I should hardly think it's the same. 

Lyd. Oh, it may be ; what sort of a person was he 
you knew ? 

_ Sally, (aside) Now for a fib. Ahem! (aloud) A 
little short fat gentleman, 

Lyd. Short and fat ? 

Sally. Yes, miss, and with a swivel eye, with 
which he looks so. (imitating.) 

Lyd. Oh dear, then, it's decidedly not the same, 
some cousin, most likely. 

Sally. Yes, miss, I should think so. (aside J He 
cousined me I know. But here comes your cousin, 
miss. 

Enter Charles, l. h. 

Charles Lydia, my own Lydia! 

Sally. Your own Lydia! she an't no such a thing. 
She is somebody else's Lydia. 

Charles. Somebody else's? 

Lyd. Yes, Charles. 

Charles. You are not serious. 

Sally. If she is not she ought to be. She's going 
to be married, sir. 

Charles. You married ? and pray what is to become 
of me? 

j.yd. Oh, you are to go into the Yeomanry. 

Charles. The what ? 

Lyd. The County Yeomanry. 

Charles And what the devil am I to do there? 

Sally. Why, of course, you are to strut and prance 
about on your fine horse, till such times as you catch 
the eye of some rich heiress. 

Charles. And what then ? 



22 HUSH MONEY. 

Sally. Oh, then you are to marry her, and, like 
the folks in the story books, you are to live happy 
ever afterwards. 

Lyd. Yes, sir, as happy as — as — I and my husband. 

Charles. Do you mean to say, then, that you shall 
be happy. 

Sally. She looks as if she would, don't she. Why, 
law, how can you ask such a question ? 

Lyd. Oh, I don't know, nor I don't care, whether 
I am happy or not, for since you, Mr. Charles, can 
take it so very coolly, and never offer to do the least 
thing; 

Charles. Cruel fortune! what can I do ? 

Sally, (aside) I can't hold my tongue any longer. 
What can you do? why, not stand twiddling your 
thumbs for an hour, Dut, if you are her sweetheart, 
do prove it, by acting as such. 

Charles, (running- to Lydia) That I will, in a 
moment. 

.Sally, (stop/iing- him) Oh, that's all very well, so 
far as she is concerned, but it's no proof to others, 
at least none that'll do one morsel of good. Oh, if I 
vas a man, wouldn't I do something? that I would. 
I'd stamp, and storm, and swear, and I'd go to my 
sweetheart, and I'd say, '* You false, perfidious 
wretch, you ! you go for to talk of marrying another ? 
what do you mean ? you can't do it." — Then to her 
father I'd say, — (i You horrid old brute, would you 
break your word? you shan't do it." — And to the fel- 
low that was going to marry her, I'd say, — " You take 
her away from me? you dare not do it, sir ! No, sir, 
you daren't! Damme, Sir!" 

Lyd. Sally ! 

Sally. Mind, I only say that's what I'd say, if I 
was a man, of course, as it is, I wouldn't let such a 
word escape my lips for ever so much. 

J. yd. Or if you did, you see, it would have no effect. 
Charles. Yes, it would, cousin, because it has al- 
ready had the effect of rousing me, and you shall 



HUSH MONEY. 23 

soon see that, although the measures I take may be 
less violent, they shall be no less efficacious. 

Sally. That's your sort ! now you talk as you ought. 
You only stick to that, and you'll do. 

Snug. (Without l. h.) Lydia! Lydia! v^here are 
you .' 

Charles Here comes your father. 

Sally. Then I'd better make myself scarce, but, 
before I go, mind once more, if you flinch, you're 
done for ; so pluck up a spirit, and give it him as he 
deserves. [Exit Sally, d. in f. 

Charles. Fear me not. 

Enter Snuggle, l. h. 

Snug. Now, Lydia, my love, call up your best 
looks, and your most winning smile ; Mr. Touchwood 
is arrived, (seeing Charles) So, Mr Charles, you 
have been talking with your cousin, have you ! A 
word in your ear, if you please : what have you been 
saying to her ? Hold your tongue, sir, I won't be an- 
swered ; but mind this, whatever it was, it's my po- 
sitive order that you never say it again. 

Charles. Sir, 1 

Snug. Not a word, sir, I tell you I won't hear it, 
and that's enough, (seeing Touchwood.) Aha, my 
dear Mr. Touchwood ! delighted to see you! 

Enter Mr. Touchwood, l. h. dressed in Tllack, and 
looking pale. 

And so is my daughter, here, though she don'c say so. 

Touch. I thank you, and I thank you, too, miss, 
{sighing) you are very good, both of you. 

Snug. Not at all, not at all ; but, hey dey ! my good 
friend ! has any thing happened ? 

Touch. Happened ? 

Snug. Aye, to make you look so queer, for, by 
Jove, I can't say you appear to me to be at all what 
I call cozy and comfortable — may be you an t well? 



24 HUSH MONEY, 

Touch. Oh, yes, I am— that is, I am not— I am not 
quite well. 

Snug. Ah, the fatigue of your late journey, I dare 
say. 

Touch. Perhaps so. 

Snug. Though, now I remember, it couldn't be 
called a journey, either, for I think you said you 
came by the river. 

Touch. (Startling.) The river! (recovering him- 
self) True, yes, I believe I did. 

Snug. Charming voyage that, by the steamer, up 
from Margate, so safe too, no danger of any one be- 
ing drown'd. 

Touch, (more agitated. J Drown'd! who says any- 
one was drown'd ? 

Snug. Bless my soul, why, nobody ; but, if they, 
had, why shouM that agitate you? they wouldn't, I 
suppose, say that you pushed them in. 

Touch, (in great agitation) I push them in? what 
do you mean, sir, by such a supposition? 

S?iug. Mr. Touchwood, you alarm me, what can 
ail you ? I am sure I said nothing — 

Touch, (recovering ) No, no, of course you have 
not, I know that very well, but the fact is, my nerves 
are just now very much shaken, and a dreadful oc- 
currence, only last night— —that I heard of 

Snug. Last night ! 

Touch. No, not last, a week ago, or a fortnight, it 
might be. You havVt heard any thing that happen- 
ed last night, have you ? that is nothing particular ? 

Snug. Not I indeed, (to Lydia.) Lyddy, my love, 
have you? 

Lyd. No, sir, nothing that I remember. 

Snug. Let me see ; there was a crowd passed the 
door this morning. 

Charles. Oh, that was only a man they were taking 
to the police office— a waterman. 

Touch. A what? 



HUSH MONEY. 25 

Charles. A waterman, charged with extorting from 
a gentleman. 

Touch, (much moved) Money, sir? 

Charles. Yes, to the amount of treble his fare. 

Touch. Oh, was that all? 

Snug. And quite enough tod, I should think. 

Touch, (recollecting himself) Enough, eh ? to be 
sure, and too much, 1 should say; but the truth is, 
they are a depraved set, those Thames watermen, I 
never knew an honest one yet. 

Charles. Indeed, sir, then you must have been pe- 
culiarly unlucky in your acquaintance with them. 

Touch, (aside) I have, indeed. 

Snug. Aye, aye, that's all very likely, but come, 
you don't look the thing, at all. Suppose now, as we 
dine rather late, you were to have a little something 
by way of a snack. 

Touch. Just as you please, sir, just as you please. 

Snug. Come, that's right; now Lyddy, my love, 
see that the tray is brought in directly, and then get 
ready, there's a good girl, to go out a little way with 
me. 

Lyd. Yes, sir, {aside) and thank you too for the 
deliverance. [Exit. 

(Touchwood draws a chair and sits down.) 

Snug. And do you, Charles, go to my lawyer, Mr. 
Clipper, and beg him to step here, in about an hour. 

Charles. Will you not allow me first to have a lit- 
tle conversation with you ? 

Snug. Yes, that is upon any subject, but one. 

Charles. And upon what ? 

Snug. I won't hear a word, so away with you : 
(JiuSting him out) that's the way to dispose of you. 

Exit Charles, l. h. 

Enter Tiller, r. d. f. with an old livery fiut ever 
his plush breeches, and carrying a tray. 

Snug. Oho, this I suppose is Mr. 

Tom. Thomas, sir, at your service. 
3 



26 HUSH MONEY. 

Snug. Aye, aye, well, Thomas, put it down there, 
and now, my friend, (to Touchwood) you'll take a 
glass of wine to begin with. 

Touch, (startled) Me — sir—yes— just as you please. 

Snug. Aye, to be sure! there, young man, pour 
you out a glass of wine, and hand it to this gentleman. 

Tom. Yes, sir, that I will. 

Snug, (to Touchwood) And, by and by, we'll all 
meet together at dinner time, and be as cosy and 
comfortable Exit R. h. 

Touch. Comfortable, indeed! much chance I have 
of that. It is positively as if every single thing oc- 
curred in order to increase my fears and perplexities. 
This morning, on venturing near Sally's dwelling, 
just to ascertain how things were, what was my hor- 
ror to seethe house shut up, as though death were 
in it, and before I had recovered that shock, who 
should I see glaring upon me, from the opposite side 
of the way, but my evil genius of last night. I 
thought I should have sunk into the pavement. How- 
ever, I verily believe I made but three steps of it, 
from there here — and now I do hope and trust we 
have parted for ever. (Tom, who has slowly and 
awkwardly poured out the wine, fiuls it at length on 
the tray, and brings it forward in a timid way. At 
this time, he has just extended it before Touchwood, 
whom, however, he does not see, and who does not see 
him.) Oh, the wine! (takes it) Well, here's that we 
may never meet again ! (drinks) Gad, the very sen- 
timent gives it a relish, — there ! (Holds out the glass, 
to put it down, and, as he turns his head, Tom puts 
his forward, and their eyes meet. Touchwood drops 
the glass, and they look at each other for some time : 
— the one in affrighted astonishment, the other with a 
sort of vacant good nature ; at length Tom nods to 
him ) 

Touch Speak, what means that nod ? 

Tom. It means — how are you by this time? 

Touch. Any thing else? 



HUSH MONEY. 37 

Tom. Yes, I hope as you're pretty well? 

Touch. Psha! 

Tom. Pray, may I enquire, in my turn, what's the 
meaning of psha? 

Touch. Begone ■ I am in no state to be trifled with. 

Tom. And who said you were? 

Touch. Fellow, my friend, I would say, you see 
jfore you a man robbed 

Tom. (quickly ) Not by me. 

Touch. No, by Fate. 

Tom. Ah, f know nothing about him, I only know 
that what you ga\e me was of your own free will, 

and that I'll be on my oath of 

, Touch. It is not of money that I speak, it is of my 
natural rest that I am deprived. My sleep, my 
precious sleep, I have not had a wink. 

Tom. Yes you have, for I tipped you one this 
blessed morning. Don't you remember, there, at the 
corner of what is it street ? I did so to you, {winking) 
you made believe not to see me, but, Lord love you, 
I'm raiher too knowing a one to be done that way — 
though you did' somehow or other contrive to give 
me the slip last night. However, as to your being 
for the future on speaking terms, it's just as you like 
about that, you know, I don't want to say nothing, 
but still, after what I saw last night — 

Touch. Hush, my good friend! don't speak of that 
here. 

Tom. And why not ! I've nothing to be afraid of. 

Touch. No, but with regard to me 

Tom. Oh, with regard to you, that's a very diffe- 
rent affair. 

Touch. Yes, yes, but still be assured that, in what 
you thought you saw, you were deceived 

Tom. Was I. Now I say you are much more de- 
ceived if you think to gammon me that way. What 
1 saw, I saw, and to that I'll bear witness 

Touch. No, no! Hush! {aside) Bear witness! — 
those words give me a death chill, (aloud) You know 
not how you distress me. 



28 HUSH MONEY. 

Tom. But I don't want to distress you, what should 
I get by that ? 

Touch, {eagerly) Nothing, certainly ; while by an 
opposite course, you may gain your utmost wishes, 
(in a low voice') you have already had money of me. 

Tom. Well, I don't deny about that. 

Touch. Listen ; will an allowance of ten pounds a 
year make you comfortable ? 

Tom. Why, yes, I should say it would go a good 
way towards it, certainly, but with regard to last 
night 

Touch. Hush ! not a word of that! and see here, 
here is the amount of the first year, {gives money.) 

Tom. You don't mean it? Ten pounds a year, be- 
sides what you have already given me! I tell you' 
what, ti;e next time you have a fancy for walking by 
the river at night 

Touch. Silence, I entreat you, 

Tom. Oh, I'm not going to blab, only if those wick- 
ed notions should get hold of you again — 

Touch. Never, never! 

Tom. Ah, that's all stuff, because, when one once 
can bring one's self to do such a thing, there is no 
reason as I see why one shouldn't take the fit to do 
it half-a -score times 

Touch, (aside) Confound the fellow ! does he think 
I push people into the river by the dozen! (aloud) 
My friend, it never did, and never can occur again. 
Oh dear ! oh dear ! 

Tom. Well, well, enough said, and now, as you do 
look what I call rather done for, suppose you were 
to take another glass of wine, and a morsel of some- 
what to eat. 

Touch. No, no ! I am in no state to eat. 

Tom. An't you, well, then, there's a precious wide 
difference between you and me, for I never had such 
a jolly good appetite. Gad I could eat the hind leg 
of a donkey, and I've a famous mind to—(a/ifiroach- 
ing the table.) 



HUSH MONEY. 29 

Touch. To whatr you wouldn't think of touching 
any thing on that table. 

Tom. Oh, well, just as you please. I know what 
to do. (going.) 

Touch, (aside) Now he's offended again. I darn't 
doit. — Stay a moment, my good friend! you may take 
any thing you like. 

Tom. No, may I though ? well, come, that is mon- 
strous kind, (aside) I declare I'm half abashed, but I 
musn't affront such a very good friend as he seems 
inclined to be to me, and so here goes. (Sits down 
to the table and eats.) But, I say, why won't you pick * 
a bit along wi' me? you may as well. 

Touch. I tell you, friend, it cannot be. (aside) I 
must let him do as he will, but I trust no one will 
come in and see him. 

Tom. Well, I'm sorry as you won't, for I do really 
believe, when all's said and done, that you are a good 
natured chap enough 

Touch. Thank you! 

Tom. And, if you come to that, so am I ; or else, 
I say, old fellow ! where would you be now ? 

Touch. Hush, no more of that ! take a glass of wine. 

Tom. With the greatest of pleasures ! (fiours cntt) 
you won't hob and nob? never mind, here's towards 
your good health ! (drinks) Well, if this an't the best 
day's journey work I've done a long time, why, jigger 
my jumps! that's all. 

Touch. Confound his vulgarity ! Not yet done, and 
some one is coming. 

Enter Snuggle, l. h. 

Tom. (Not seeing him) Why, I say! (holding up. 
a large piece of meat) what do they call this here ? 
(seeing Snuggle) Ahem ! (endeavours to hide it.) 

Snug. Well, I hope that gentleman finds himself 
cosy and comfortable. 

Tom. My eye, here'll be a shindey ! 



30 HUSH MONEY. 

Snug. Mr. Touchwood! (Touch wood turns away.) 
And you sir, (to Tom.) how dare you take such a 
liberty ? 

Tom. I took no liberty, I took nothing but one or 
two slices of ham, and Mr. What-dye-call em, there, 
told me to do it, and let him deny it if he likes. 

Touch, (aside) Not fur the world. 

Snug. Pray, sir, do you usually allow people of 
this sort to sit down and eat in your presence. 

Touch. Sir, the fact is — I say, sir, the fact is — I 
dare say all this appears very strange to you. 

Snug. It does, indeed, sir. 

Touch. Well, sir, I don't dispute that point with 
you, but, as I was saying, the fact is — sir — that there 
are reasons 

Tom. Yes sir, that's it, there are reasons, sir, and 
Mr. Thingummy knows there are. 

Touch, (roughly) Silence! 

Tom. Hey? 

Touch, (very softly) I merely say — allow me to 
explain the matter. 

Tom. Oh ! 

Snug. Come, come, sir, we had better leave the 
thing to explain itself, I believe. 

Tom. Yes, may be, that will the best after all. 

Touch. Thus much only allow me to say, that in 
consequence of something, to which I will not now 
more particularly allude 

Tom. No, no, (significantly) better not, you know. 

Touch. 1 ain't going. I repeat that, owing to what 
I call a very great service, rendered to ine by this 
person, 1 feel myself called upon to allow him 

7 Gin. Ten pounds a year, bless you ! I'm nut asham- 
ed to own it 

Snug. Well, sir, I have no wish to pry into this or 
any other private affair of your's, and if your friend 
will only — now that he has done — just clear away 
his own table, why, there's an end to the matter. 



HUSH MONEY. 31 

Tom Oh, to be sure, I'll toddle off with it, and 
that in less than no time, {aside to Touchwood.) Don't 
you fret yourself — It's all right. {Exit 2 e. r. h. 

Snug. And now, perhaps, you'll have no objection 
to a walk about the grounds of my Rus in Urbe, as 
I call it, with me and my daughter. 

Touch. Sir, you may take me where you will. 
(aside) If I can only, by that means, escape the per- 
secution of my evil genius. 

Snug. Come, follow me then, and I'll take you first 
round by the river. [Exit, r. h. 

7 ouch. The river again? If I were up to my neck 
in it, I couldn't be much worse off than I am. [Exit. 

SCENE II. — The Garden o/Snuggle's House, with 
part of the building at the side. At the back, the 
River, life. The sun is just setting, and, during 
the scene, the stage becomes gradually darker. 

Enter, from the house, Sally followed by Tom 
Tiller. 

Tom. Ha, ha! well to be sure, only to think of our 
meeting here in this way, and unbeknown to each 
other 

Sally, (aside) Why, not quite, but no matter for 
that now — but just tell me how you came so very in* 
timate with Mr. Charles? 

Tom. Oh, bless you, I'm by no manner of means 
what you calls regula'ly intimate, I'm only a little > 
familiar or so with him, on account ot his having 
known me a long time, as a boddy may call it profes- 
sionally ; but, law bless me, they say there's a tide 
in the affairs of men, and I'm sure there is in the af- 
fairs of watermen, and one that has been running 
down a long time ; for, what with bridges, and omni- ' 
buses, and steam -boats, why what is there left for an 
honest pair of skulls to do? Nobody ever calls a 
boat in these days, except it may be now and then a 



52 HUSH MONEY. 

gentleman as wants to drown himself, and few of them 
has the gentility to pay their fare beforehand, so that 
you see, Sally, we're obligated for to do many things 
as we warn't lamed to do in our apprenticeship, and 
like amphiberous animals, to get our living on land, 
as well as water. 

Sally. Well, that's all satisfactory, as far as you're 
concerned, and now let you and I see if we can't do 
something to help my friend, Miss Lydia, and your 
friend, Mr. Charles, out of their present quandary, 
(aside) and to pay off Mr. Touchwood the grudge I 
owe him, for serving me as he has done; (aloud) 
there they go, the nice young creatures, looking as 
innocent as two lambs, going to be sacrified at the 
halter of hambition. 

Tom. Well, I say, Mrs. Sally, you're a going it 
with your hard words, however, I'm sure I, for one, 
can't think — (reflecting.) 

Sally. No, Thomas, you seldom can, but stay ! 
(laying' her hand smartly on the top, of Tom's head) 
I think I've hit on something. 

Tom. Gad you have, you have hit me on my head, 
and devilish hard too. 

Sally. I may do, but we must, above all, take care 
that we are not seen together, and if any thing strikes 
you 

lorn. But I hope nothing will ; I have had enough 
for one while, though for fear I shouldn't, here comes 
that plague of my life, Mother Crab. 

Sally. So she does — yes, there she is, I do declare, 
a come to look after you, Tom, swelling like a tur- 
key cock. 

Enter Mrs. Crab. 

Mrs. C. Well, upon my word S I thought, ma'am, 
as you was here to lend a helping hand. 

Sally. So I am, and so perhaps you'll b2 good 
enough to tell me which hand it's to be ? 

Tom. Ha! ha ! there she has you, I think. 



HUSH MONEY. SS 

Mrs. C. I don't descend to answer such low breed- 
ing, but, as for you, Mr. Thomas, I've been waiting 
you for some time — 

Sally. Yes, ma'am, he knows you have, and I know 
it too, and we also both of us know as you're any 
thing but likely to get him. 

Tom, Ha! ha! and there she certainly has you 
again. 

Mrs. C. She have me ? 

Sally. Yes, you wanted one of us to have you, may 
be it don't signify which. (Tom and Sally laugh.) 

Mrs. C. Ignorant being! I wonder, Mr. Thomas, 
how a person of your sense could ever take up with 
such as she ? 

Tom. Now, Mrs. Crab, I don't want to be no way 
rude to you, because I an't going to deny that you 
have been all day long a putting, or a pouring, some- 
thing, or other precious nice down my throat, but 
still you know, as a man of honour, and I may say, a 
.gentleman, I can't stand by, and hear her abused as 
is about to become my lawful spouse. 

Airs. C. But she's not about to become no such a 
thing, for, if I can't have my own way, 1 think I know 
how to spoil her sport, and that's some comfort. 

Sally. But don't, pray don't, my dear Mrs. Crab, 
because, when our wedding takes place, we'll not 
forget to ask you, and we'll all sit down and be happy. 

Mrs. C. Indeed ! we'll do great things, seemingly, 
but take care as I don't put a spoke in your wheel. 

Tom. Don't you wish you may be able? 

Mrs. C. Yes, and what's more, since you provoke 
me, you shall find that I am able. (Tom and Sally 
laugh.) Very fine ma'am, you're quite in the right 
to laugh while you can, but when Mr. Thomas throws 
you off, as he most certainly will, you'll find it no 
such laughing matter, because you can't go back 
again to your former admirer, Mr. Touchwood, as 
you have been so long carrying on your game with 
in secret, because he has now done with all such 



34 HUSH MONEY. 

trumpery as you ; (Tom, who has gone on laughing, 
at the beginning of this sfieech, changes, by degrees, 
into a melancholy tone,) and now you may grin at 
that ; but mind you one thing, Mr. Tiller, don't you 
go for to presume to put your ugly face into my 
kitchen again, for, as suve as ever you do, I'll give 
you a crack of the head with my rolling pin, as shall 
make you think all London is illuminated. (Exit. 

Tom. Sally ! 

Sally. Thomas! 

To m. Mrs. Sally, I say. 

Sally. And, Mr. Thomas, I say. 

Tom. Come, ma'am, this won't do, you may give 
yourself what airs you please, there's a something or 
another behind all, which behoves me to have clear- 
ed up, and I think it's time that I plucked up a spi- 
rit, and speak out to you. 

Sally. And now you have spoken out, what do you 
mean to do next ? 

Touch, (without) Lydia,- Miss Lydia. I say! 

Tom. There, ma'am, is your answer. 

Sally. What do you mean ? 

Tom. I mean that I've a word or two to say to 
Mr. Touchwood in private, so you get out of the 
way. 

Sally. In private ? but supposing 

Tom. Supposing you do for once as you're desired. 

Sally. Well, I'm gone; (aside) but I'll not go 
far though. [Exit. 

Tom. I don't quite understand the rights of this 
affair between Mrs. Sally and him, and so I'll just 
have it out with the gentleman at once 

[Stands aside. 

Mnter t from the house, Touchwood, somewhat elated 

by wine. 

Touch. Miss Lydia, charming Miss Lydia J not 

here neither. I reckon it particularly unkind in her 

now to take herself off in that unceremonious way, 



HUSH MONEY. 35 

just as I had, somehow or other, got the courage to 
speak up to her like a man, however, there's one 
thing I'm determined on for the future, I'll speak to 
her and to every body else like a man, and not suf- 
fer myself to be threatened and bullied as I have 
been, especially by that imp of destruction, that 
dwarf, that pigmy, that hop-o'-my-thumb, — (Tom, 
who has gradually co?ne forward, stands before him ) 
(aside) Oh lord ! talk of the — (smiling) How d'ye 
do, Mr. Tiller? 

Tom. Pretty well, I thank you, Mr. Touchwood. 

Touch. I was just thinking of you, and, therefore, 
I consider — I say, Mr. T — I consider your coming 
as a particularly lucky accident. 

Tom. Do you ? but, you see, my coming here don'c 
happen to be on account at all. 

Touch. Indeed, then all one can say upon that is, 
that it's the more particularly kind in you. 

Tom. I'm glad you think so, and now, if you'll just 
give me a bit of your attention, I shall take it as 
particularly kind of you. 

Touch, (aside J I don't like his manner: what can 
he mean ? (aloud J Certainly, Mr. T. — I say, most 
certainly. 

Tom. Very good, then, in the first place, there is 
a young person in this house, a young female I'll 
say, that you, it seems, have been some time trying 
to be on good terms with. 

Touch To whom do you allude, Mr. T.? 

Tom. Oh, come, you know well enough, there's 
no vast occasion to name names, but this much I'll 
say, it begins with a crooked letter. 

Touch. A crooked letter? 

Tom. Ay, an S Now are you awake ? 

Touch, (aside J S. why he means Miss Snuggle. 
There is no other, (aside J Yes, Mr. T. — I amawake, 
and, although I certainly have my views in that 
quarter, yet I don't see how that can concern you. 



S6 HUSH MONEY. 

Tern. Don't you ? (aside J Then he don't know of 
Sally and I keeping company— come, that's some- 
thing, (aloud) Why, I don't know that it argyfies 
much about what you see, because I see, and I say, 
that I don't choose you to have any thing more to 
say to her. 

Touch. Well, I like the notion of that, I must say. 
You don't choose it ? 

Tom. No, I don't, and that because I have taken 
a fancy to her myself. 

Touch. You ! upon my word, you are a very plea- 
sant sort of person ; it's only a pity that there is so 
little of you. 

Tom. Come, I say ! 

Touch. Oh, well, if it offends you, I won't say 
another word, only the idea you know of one so much 
above you. 

Tom. Above me ! suppose she is, all that she's got 
to do is to stoop down. I should think that's rather 
more our business than your's. 

Touch. Well, but will she condescend to have you, 
because you have taken a fancy to her ? 

Tom. She will, because she's taken ditto to me, if 
you doubt it. ask her, that's all. 

Touch, (aside) Well, I never — Lydia take a fancy, 
as he calls it, to him ? it can't be, and yet I must say 
she has been particularly cool to me ; and, down at 
Margate, more then once talked about her affections 
being engaged. Oh, these women ! they do take 
such vagaries into their heads! (aloud) And her 
father 

Tom. What, her old dad ! he and I shook hands 
upon it a long while ago. 

Touch. Poo! Poo! 

Enter Sally. 
Tom. (advancing to him) What do you mean by 
"Poo ! Poo!" I tell you what, just from this indi- 
vidual moment give up all thought of the person in 



HUSH MONEY. 97 

question, or I'll ring such a peal in your ears as shall 
make you think the very dead are come to life. 

Touch. The dead ! (at that moment his eyes rest on 
Sahy, who, drest in white, afifiears beckoning to try 
to entice away Tom, without being seen.) Ah, help ! 
murder ! ghosts ! (sinks on a bank.) 

Sally, (coming forward, and taking hold of Torn,) 
Come this way, do ! 

Tom. Hullo ! I say, don't you — what are you at ? 

Sally. Come along, and don't be a fool, I tell you ! 

[Exeunt. 

Enter, from the house. Snuggle. 

Snug. What is all this noise! Ah, Mr. Touch- 
wood ! (shaking him) Hullo, friend Touchwood. 

Touch. Leave me, leave me! 

Snug. Leave you ? not I, what's the matter ? 

Touch, {recovering) Is she gone ? 

Snug. She! uho? (aside) Oh, he means my 
daughter, (aloud) She is for the moment, but she is 
coming again 

Touch. Coming again, is she ? then let me go. 

Snug. And why, pray? 

Touch. Because — yet as you say — why should I ? 
the whole world in league together can't make that 
true which is in itself false! 

Snug. I don't see who is to deny that. 

Touch. Very well then, after all, what have I to 
fear-? supposing a dozen rascally waterman should 
swear it 

Snug, (imfiaiiently) Swear it? swear what ? 

Touch. Why, that I pushed her into the river. 

Snug. The liver ? where, when ? 

Touch. Why, last night. 

Snug. Oh! 

Touch. When she knows, perfectly well, that she 

jumped in of her own accord — and, therefore, I am 

determined to give myself no more concern about it, 

I will not be put upon in this way, by every fool, and 

4 



58 HUSH MONEY. 

from this very moment I shall make myself as happy 
and as independent as a gentleman of eight hundred 
a year ought to be, and so they shall find. 

Snug, (aside) Oh, I begin to suspect, ( looking- at 
hin ) yes, it's clear he has taken too much wine, while I 
was asleep, I'd better get him quietly to bed (aloud) 
My friend, I should be sorry that my daughter saw 
you just now, it might injure you in her opinion. 

Touch. Sir, the opinion of your daughter, and. 
your daughter herself, are alike objects of the most 
perfect indifference to me. 

Snug, (aside J Oh he's very tipsy indeed, (aloud) 
Come, come ! 

Touch I will not come come, and what's more, 
sir, I will not marry any young woman who has 
already cast her affections upon another. 

Snug, (laughing ) Oh, is that all ? 

Touch. What, you do know of that little affair then? 

Snug. K aside) He has discovered her attachment 
to her cousin, and that has given him this annoyance. 
(aloud. J Yes, yes, I know all about it, but I'll now 
put an end to it. 

Touch. I beg you'll do no such thing, on my 
account, for F, sir, hive done with her, and you to<«, and 
now you may marry her, sir as soon as you like, to 
her jolly young waterman, ha! ha! 

Snug. I tell you what, sir, I c^n put up with a 
good deal, but don't you carry this joke toof.tr — don't, 
1 say, put me into a passion — this is not at all what 
I call cosy and comfortable ; zounds ! and fury — I'm 
getting into such a rage, I dou't know that I shall 
ever be cool again. 

Touch. Oh, if you want to get cool, the best thing 
in the world is to take a little turn on the river — 
there's your son-in law, you know, the very person to 
do that for you, it's all in his line. (Imitating the water- 
man J " Boat, your honour ? oars? skulls ? capital tide 
up!" Ha! Ha! 

Snug, (aside J Why, he's as drunk as he can be. 
(aloud J Here, Charles, Nephew, Thomas,— I say, 
I'll have you carried off to bed at once. 



HUSH MOXKY. 39 

Touch. Not you, indeed, old Wigsby. [He runs 
towards the side, Snuggle pursuing him— just as he 
is going- off, Enter Charles and Lydia, meeting 
him ] Confound it, is there no escape ? 

Charles (to Snuggle.) Now, sir. 

Snug. Charles, do you wish to be my son-in-law ? 
— don't answer me, but knock that impudent rascal 
down, and you shall* marry Lyddy to morrow. 

Charles. Say not another word, sir. [running to- 
wards Touchwood. Touchwood runnhig away, 
tries to escape by the back.) 

Enter Tom Tiller, l. h. 

Tom, What's the row ? 

Touch. He here ! — but I don't care ; I'll be neither 
bullied nor robbed any more, and with regard to last 
night, I neither did, nor meant to do harm to any 
mortal being, and that I'll swear, as I'm aiive. 

Enter Sally, l. h. 

Solly Do, and as I'm alive, I'll confirm it. 

Touth. Sally — and'Jiving! Oh, here has been a 
pretty conspiracy, and you, sir, (/o Tiller) are at the 
bottom of ic. 

Tom. I say, my fine fallow, if you happen to have 
more teeth in your head than you know what to do 
with, you'd just better say that again. 

Touch. Oh, don't think to frighten me — now she's 
the e. it won't do, you know 

Sally. (inte?'/iosing) Pray don't let there be no 
violence on either side. There has been a great ('eal 
of mist ike here, and poor Mr. Touchwood has been 
the chief sufferer. 

Touch. 1 have, indeed ; and I thank yea particular- 
ly for your share of what I've had. 

Tom. Come, I say, Mr. I hingummy ! 

Sally. Now, Thomas, keep you quiet. 

Touch No, no, pray let him talk ; but I'll promise 
him he gets no more Hush Money out of me. 

Ml, {with loud voices) Hush Money ? 




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HUSH MONEY. 



Touch. Yes, Hush Money it was intended for, but 
it don't seem to have had the effect with any of you. 

•Snug. I ttil you what — there certainly has, as 
Sally says, been some mistake. 

Sally, 'i here has, and one which she alone can 
thoroughly explain, and she will do so later, if you'll 
now only take her word for the fact, and be friends, 
one and all, as you ought to be — what say you, young 
folks? 

Charles and Lyd. Agreed! 

Sully', (to Snuggle) And you, sir? 

Snug. I say, let's be cosy and comfortable. 

Sally, (fo Tom) And you? 

Tom. 1 agree with my wife — as is to be — as every 
other gentleman does — {aside) — 'till she is my wife. 

Sally, (to Touchwood) And you? 

Touch. Anything for a quiet life. 

Sally. Then are all agreed. 

Touch. Except those whose voice is of more im- 
portance than all the ret. (to the Audience) I have 
been, for the last hour, labouring under a very se- 
rious imputation, and it seems expected by some 
that my conduct should be thoroughly explained 
Ladies and Gentlemen! I say once for all, I won't do 
it — I will not, positively. Drown a woman, indeed ! 
~ a likely story. The object of my life is to cirown 
your care», and should I tffect that by drowning wo- 
man — woman, the destroyer of care ? No, no, you 
have been witnesses — partial ones, I hope — to what 
1 have really done, and therefore l<rt me only obtain 
your approval ot it, and under that sanction, Ladies 
and Gentlemen, I don't care what they say; I'll do 
the very same thing again tomorrow. 



DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS 

AT THE TALI. OF THE CCRTAIW. 

Snuggle. Tiller. Sally. Touchwood. Lydia. Charles. 



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016 102 923 3 



